


The Show

by DefectiveDetective



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: A very short oneshot, Lightly implied johnlock, M/M, Magic, Magicians, Oneshot, Sherlock and Mycroft are adorable brothers, Sherlock likes magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 06:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11285247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefectiveDetective/pseuds/DefectiveDetective
Summary: Doves flew above his head, and cards fell before his eyes. He was enthralled, and couldn't help the grin that worked it's way onto his featuresA oneshot in which Sherlock loves magic.-------------





	The Show

Most think that Sherlock would despise magicians and their craft.

The truth is, he adores it.

They don't know that his first memory is him braced on Mycroft's hip, enthralled and silent, watching doves fly and cards fall. He was fascinated, not only with the tricks, but with the gasps of the crowd and the laughter echoing through the hall.

He remembers the awed whispers, and mumbled praise.

His small fists were unconsciously grasping Mycroft's shirt, and his eyes were fixed on the man in a vast coat. 

He demanded to know how, to know why, determined even as a toddler and that want, the need to see more, consumed him, even as a small child. 

His mouth twists when he recalls Mycroft indulging him by lifting Sherlock onto his shoulders to see the next show better,and Mycroft's laughter at his gleeful bouncing.

He remembers the times between the occasional shows, in which Mycroft would sit in front of him and amuse him just the same. Magic done with clever fingers and a clever mind.

He remembers growing older and watching with a singleminded focus, no longer demanding how, but now just watching and figuring out how.

He wanted to mystify people, and Mycroft's praise made him believe he could.

However, nothing compared to standing in the audience, feeling the same awe, grinning the same grin, but not focused on the why or how, just simply focused on the magician and their devious act.

Magic is devious, but so is crime.

Magic was many things; logic, distraction, sleight of hand, deception. It was enchanting. In its own way, Sherlock supposed that magic could be very brutal too.

Magic is supposed to be whimsical, and crime is not, but Sherlock cannot deny that they are kin in his mind. After all, they contain so many of the same elements; deception, distraction, logic, acting and sleight of hand.

Magic just seemed to have less blood and death.

He never realised, but he started becoming the man in the great coat from so long ago. He became an act, but he didn't bring smiles to faces, or earn murmured praise.

A cold adolescent grew into a cold addict.

He only ever went to another show once.

He lingered in the back, drugs flowing with his blood and god, he missed this so much. He thought he had replaced it, but he could not restrain the childlike grin that appeared when the woman appeared as if from thin air.

There was no grin on his face when a knife protruded from her chest, blood spilling over her shirt. He remembers the gaps from the crowd because it seemed so real. How could it be fake? The gasps turned into screams when the magician fell to the stage with a dull thud.

It was the first crime scene Sherlock ever trespassed.

It was not the first time he was arrested.

It was the first case he solved as The Consulting Detective.

The mystification didn't happen all at once, but it happened nonetheless.

He was enchanted yet again, split open. For once, someone was not manipulating him, not molding him to their own needs.

John was the best magician Sherlock had ever come across. 

John was surreal, and didn't even know that he had knocked down Sherlock's walls like a house of cards. Coaxed laughter from him like a rabbit from a hat. He escaped the deadliest of traps with a laugh and mentions of take-out.

The difference is, none of it was premeditated, none of it was distraction and manipulation. 

Sherlock is absolutely terrified of it. There's one act John hasn't yet completed.

Disappearance.

A dull ache forms in his gut when he remembers that he is like his emotions; volatile, powerful and unwanted.

Of course it was inevitable that John would leave, and the world would keep spinning and monotony would still sing it's overwhelming song except for there would be no one to make him watch Bond films and indulge his moods.

Sherlock had never imagined he would have disappeared first.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first ever piece of fic writing! I'm excited to post this, yet I'm terrified.
> 
> Hope you got some form of entertainment from this.


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